


snowflake

by Elisye



Category: Subarashiki Kono Sekai | The World Ends With You
Genre: Gen, sweats bc i think im the only one who makes weirdass aus like these really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-11
Updated: 2015-11-11
Packaged: 2018-05-01 03:26:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5190380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elisye/pseuds/Elisye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Winter arrives in Shibuya with its usual, boring greetings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	snowflake

**Author's Note:**

>   
> _a snowflake among a dozen—_  
>  it's funny how no one really _looks_ , though.

.

.

Things end as how they always do.

You close the door behind you, softly, with a click to the lock and a muffled step down the stairs. The bonfires continue to burn and fade, some faster than others, some with more smoke than Soul, or even vice versa. 

Regardless, by the time you've reached 104's top floor, you know that no one - alive or dead - will find corpses on the rooftop.

.

You blend in as well as you can, and get no questions - though maybe some questionable stares - as you head back down and leave.

A lot of people sniffle as they pass by, wrinkling their noses in disgust and confusion, thoughtful - you pick up your pace fast enough that you're not around once they get any ideas. And thankfully, no one figures out anything. As usual.

.

.

On the way home, you see your reflection in a store's window display—

Your face is tired and cold.

The corners of your jacket look a little burnt.

Your fingers are like ice, frozen in their tight grip, closely holding Mr. Mew in place - your only companion, on that note, looks like he got drenched in the sea. The weak shower of snow, falling since morning and still falling even into the evening, isn't helping matters.

.

The pavement is icy, and you expect another troublesome bunch to meet you along the way.

Nothing happens, though. Good for you, best for them.

.

.

When you get back, you take your leisurely time in getting a change of clothes, fixing up Mr. Mew, and wringing out the smell of ash and ice in your hair.

You're successful in all but one of them.

And you try, nonetheless, to be successful in all.

Of course life doesn't work that way, even for the smaller details—you go get yourself a cup of coffee instead, all the way down Cat Street.

.

.

.

"There weren't that many this time, right?"

You nod, quiet. The scratches of the pen nib is the closest thing to a verbal response.

The barista sighs a little, and continues wiping his mugs dry. You're not sure what he's sighing over, and don't see a point in guessing.

"All from Kyoto, this time," you mutter, as you set the pen down, looking at the tally marks scribbled onto the paper - it's only been a few days, but even so, you don't like the numbers you're counting up to. 

Zero is a prettier result to reach for.

"Must be a pretty dissatisfied bunch," is all your Producer says, with a rather nonchalant shrug. You mirror the sentiments.

.

By midnight, you leave.

—but not without Hanekoma telling you to wear your new 'perfume' more often, as a joke - and you, 'jokingly', retorting back that he might as well make it into a real one for Gatito. 

You almost regret it when next morning, he tells you about a collaboration with a renown perfume brand.

.

.

Things like repeating themselves, as winter settles in.

It's annoying, to deal with the same thing every year, but you don't have much of choice. You kind of never did.

.

It's been as usual.

.


End file.
